“Sweet dreams, Hadley.”
MY DREAMS WERE anything but sweet, a hodgepodge of terrifying and confusing images causing me to toss and turn all night. At one point I swear I felt a hand on my forehead and a female voice urging me to settle. I didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to May Potter as much as I felt in my heart it did.
It seemed she was there all night, though she didn’t wake me, instead watching and whispering as she tried to help me outlast my troubled sleep.
It will be all right. Don’t fret.
This is the first day. The others will be better.
He’s outside watching. You don’t have to worry about someone finding you here.
You can start learning now. You’re behind, but things will get better. I promise.
If it’s any consolation, I wish I would’ve done everything differently.
It wasn’t much of a consolation, and by the time I woke I was a sweaty and tense mess, my hair snarled from all the shifting to get comfortable during the overnight hours. I hopped in the shower, opting for lukewarm water in an effort to shake off the nightmare doldrums. Then, after changing into simple knit shorts and a tank top, I took my coffee to the back patio.
It wasn’t until I was already settled that I remembered Aurora’s naked visit twenty-four hours earlier. She apparently didn’t want to visit today – which I was thankful for – so I could enjoy my coffee in peace. I reveled in the sun and the sound of the surf before draining my coffee and heading inside.
I had a lot of work to do. It was time to focus on that rather than … the other stuff.
It was the other stuff that weighed heavily on me as I climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor. I felt a bit daft for not visiting until now. I thought the third floor – the one where the entire level consisted of a room with a light that was mostly for looks and only fired up when I saw fit because it was no longer necessary for boats coming into the bay – wasn’t important. Apparently I was wrong.
I’d given the floor a cursory glance the day I moved in, and by that I mean I climbed to the top of the stairs and looked for about thirty seconds before heading back down. All I could see was a huge light and a couple of shelves. It didn’t look like much … and yet, when I gave it a second look given all that I knew I couldn’t understand how I’d missed the truth behind the room.
The best way to describe the third floor was as an out-of-control library that apparently doubled as a laboratory on special days. The light took up the center of the room, but there was a simple beauty in the light’s design and the way the shelves were spread out, the light enhancing rather than detracting.
I wasn’t sure what to think when I hit the first shelf, scratching my nose as I perused the leather-bound books that were most certainly considered antiques. I selected a purple tome, pursing my lips as I read the title. Toads, Snails and Other Spell Ingredients That Can Go Bad.
I’m not sure what I expected – maybe Potions for Beginners or Spells for Dummies – but it certainly wasn’t something so mundane. The idea that toad remains could go wrong and inadvertently hurt a spell was both odd and hilarious. I heaved a sigh as I returned the book to the shelf, moving toward the next shelf and pulling up short when I found a photograph of my mother and father staring back at me.
I recognized the photograph. It was taken while they were both still in college. They looked fresh-faced and happy. My mother would never have the chance to age to the point where she was anything else, but my father would have time to turn sad and introspective. I ran my fingers over the frame, wistful. Not for the first time I wondered what would’ve happened if my mother had lived. The thought took on new meaning now given what I’d learned – and, yes, I believed it all to be true. I could no longer push it off as a dream.
If my mother had survived would she have made up with May Potter? Would I have known May as more than my surprising benefactor? Would I have been able to call her “grandmother” without cringing? Would I not have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I thought about my father because he would’ve had no reason to “protect” me throughout my life?
If my mother survived, would I have known about Moonstone Bay before this? Would I have visited as a child? I knew my father would never move here, which meant my mother wouldn’t have, but would I have known about my potential second home? Would I have been raised with the knowledge of paranormal beings to the point it wouldn’t shock me in the least?
Heck, would I have met a shark shifter? I didn’t care what anyone said – and I would never admit it to anyone outside of my own head – but that sounded downright cool.
I returned the photograph to the shelf and moved on to the desk in the back corner of the room. I missed it when I first glanced inside because the huge light cut off the angle of examination. This was clearly where May Potter spent a lot of her time. She had recipe cards scattered about, framed photographs of Moonstone Bay friends, and even a journal sitting in the middle of the desk.
I sat in the desk chair and played with the cover of the journal, debating whether or not I should read it. Journals were meant to be private, after all. Sure, May Potter was dead, but she most certainly was not gone. That made it somehow more invasive.
Still, she wanted me to learn, right? That’s what she said. She wanted me to know the truth of her life and what living in Moonstone Bay meant. I couldn’t learn that without some help.
I sucked in a breath as I flipped open the cover, widening my eyes at a photograph of myself staring back. It was a snapshot, something someone printed on a home printer. I stood next to my father as we smiled and mugged for the camera at my college graduation. I couldn’t remember who took the photograph – I think it was my roommate’s mother – but I remembered the day very well.
“How did you get this?” I murmured.
The question would be repeated in my head throughout the day. When I flipped to the next page I found another photograph of me, this one from when I was a baby. Each page had a different photograph of me, and throughout the years May had made notes next to the photographs, her bold and recognizable script describing my age and how much I reminded her of my mother.
My ears and cheeks burned by the time I was done, my feet feeling light and disconnected from my body as I tried to stand. Instead of forcing myself to be strong and accept everything in the journal, I indulged in a moment of weakness and dropped to my knees.
It was too much. It was all too much. Even if I could get past the fact that zombies were real and my grandmother thought she was a witch, the fact that she kept tabs on me since my early childhood – I knew now that my father kept her away even more than he wanted to admit – it was all too much.
I rested the side of my head on my knees, which I drew close to my chest, and did the one thing I hadn’t allowed myself to do since any of this started.
I wept.
And I didn’t stop until I couldn’t squeeze out one more tear.
I wept for the mother I never knew, the grandmother I’d met only after her death and, for some reason, those stupid zombies wandering the cemetery at night. It was all too much and I needed to cry, so that’s exactly what I did.
Ten
I put a bag of frozen peas over my eyes for ten minutes to reduce the swelling. I had a feeling I might have visitors – that’s apparently the Moonstone Bay way, after all – and I was proved right by the knock on the door shortly before noon.
I took a moment to glance at my reflection in the wall mirror, my makeup-free face serving as a stark reminder that I’d fallen apart not long before. I combed my fingers through my hair to order it and then headed toward the door.
I expected to find Lilac or Galen on the other side, maybe even Aurora asking if she could take another naked dip without upsetting me. Instead I found Ned Baxter standing on the front mat, a bright smile on his face.
“Mr. Baxter.” I wasn’t expecting him, so I wasn’t sure what sort of greeting would be proper given th
e circumstances. “Do you need something?” I felt a bit slow and stupid. “Was I expecting you?”
Ned’s smile never wavered. “Not unless you’re psychic.”
I was fairly certain I wasn’t, but I’d come to the realization that ruling out anything in Moonstone Bay was a bad idea. “So this is just a friendly visit?”
“Well … .” Ned broke off and shifted from one foot to the other, his discomfort evident. “I heard that you had a rough day yesterday.”
“You heard?” I should’ve expected that, right? Moonstone Bay was full of gossip and I was the shiniest new gossip generator in town. Of course I was the topic of conversation. Lilac, Aurora and Galen probably used me as a punchline when telling stories at one of the myriad bars. While I was trying to prove to myself that yesterday was a nightmare, they were living in a comedy. That just figured.
“I heard,” Ned confirmed, nodding. “Can we sit down and talk for a few minutes?”
It was a simple request, but it rankled me. I gestured toward the front porch, refusing to grant the man entrance into the only place I considered a safe haven. “Let’s talk out here.”
“Okay.” I doubted that Ned realized why I didn’t invite him inside – he probably figured I was a poor housekeeper on top of everything else – but he took a seat at the small bistro table located at the far corner of the porch without complaint. I knew I should offer him refreshments, but I was in no mood to play hostess.
“What have you heard about me?” As far as opening gambits go, it wasn’t the friendliest, but the knowledge that gossip was being spread about me set my teeth on edge.
“I’ve heard that our best laid plans have fallen apart,” Ned replied, not missing a beat. “I understand that you’ve been made aware of Moonstone Bay’s more … um … magical side.”
That was an understatement. “Yeah, it’s been a busy forty-eight hours,” I confirmed, crossing my arms over my chest as I sat in the chair across from him. My stance was aggressive, but I wasn’t in the mood to care. “What do you want?”
“I want to make sure you’re okay,” Ned answered, his eyes clear as they roamed my face. “Did you sleep at all?”
“I slept.”
“Well?”
“That wasn’t the original question.”
Ned chuckled, clearly uncomfortable. “No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry this all went sideways so quickly. The plan was to let you settle in and slowly reveal everything over time.”
“I’m the sort of person who would rather have all the information from the start rather than to have it arrive in dribs and drabs,” I said. “May I ask why you all thought it would be a good idea to keep me in the dark?”
“I wasn’t around for that particular decision,” Ned clarified. “If you remember, I didn’t even know about your existence until a few months before May died. I was surprised when she had me draw up the paperwork leaving the lighthouse to you.”
“It sounds as if she was beloved,” I noted, allowing myself to relax a bit. “You probably didn’t want to consider the fact that she wouldn’t survive.”
“No, but I didn’t even know Emma had a child. You never visited. May never mentioned you.”
My mind drifted to the journal upstairs. May Potter might not have mentioned me, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think of me. The realization hurt – and yet it also soothed my frayed nerves in a way that I didn’t think possible only twelve hours earlier. “Yeah, well, I think my father and May didn’t exactly see eye to eye on things.”
“I see.” Ned steepled his fingers as he rested his elbows on the table. “I know this is a lot to take in. You come from a world where paranormal beings and entities are fiction. Moonstone Bay is the exact opposite. If you’re normal on the island you’re considered odd.”
That was an interesting way of looking at it. “Are you paranormal?”
“I have a bit of wendigo in me, but it’s nothing to write home about.”
I thought about asking the obvious question, but instead made a mental note to Google “wendigo” once I was alone again. That would probably be easier, and make me look like less of an idiot. “Well, that’s nice for you.” Really, what do you say to something like that?
“My father was full-on wendigo and my mother was a witch,” Ned explained. “I never really got a full dose of either, so I’m more of a half-breed with zero power more than anything else.”
“You grew up knowing about this stuff. That makes things easier for you.”
“Yes, and no. Still, you’re clearly dealing with a lot. That’s why I stopped by.”
“Are you offering to explain things to me?” That seemed to be the offer du jour. “If so, I have to say I’m not in the mood for a lot of explanations right now.”
“That’s not why I came.” Ned leaned back in his chair, extending his short legs in front of him as he fixed me with a friendly smile. He was the only lawyer I could ever remember meeting who wore a suit coat with knee-length shorts. It was an odd ensemble, to say the least.
“Why did you come?”
“I figured this might be too much for you,” Ned said. “This isn’t your world, and I know you’re probably wondering how you’ll fit in once the dust settles. My guess is you only came in the first place because of the will’s stipulation that you live here to receive your inheritance.”
Was that true? I’d like to think I’m bigger than that, but it wasn’t untrue. The inheritance motivated me – yes, I feel small because of it – but I was also prodded into action by the thought of learning more about my mother’s family. “I moved here for a variety of reasons. I’d be lying if I said the inheritance wasn’t part of it.”
“And no one blames you for that,” Ned supplied. “I think most people would’ve done the same in your circumstances.”
I believed that, too. Strangely enough, though, that didn’t make me feel better. “Yeah, well, the entire thing is a bit messed up. I’m still trying to sort it out.”
“You look as if you’re suffering because of it,” Ned noted, scanning my face once more. “The thing is, I don’t think May would’ve done this if she realized how much you’d be hurt in the process. Even though she didn’t mention you until shortly before her passing, I think she cared about you. Er, well, I think she at least cared about the idea of you.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying that you don’t have to stay here to claim your inheritance,” Ned explained. “Well, at least your full inheritance. I’ve been giving it some thought, and I don’t want to see the lighthouse fall into disarray. It’s very important to the island’s financial longevity.”
I had no idea what that meant. “I’m sorry, but … um … .”
Ned held up his hands in a placating manner. “I apologize. I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s just, well, the lighthouse is a tourist destination and the beach behind it is very important. May was dedicated to keeping up the building and the land.”
“I understand that.”
“You’re in a unique position,” Ned explained. “You came for the inheritance, and now you’re foundering under the weight of Moonstone Bay’s unique brand of truth.”
“I wouldn’t use the word foundering,” I replied.
Ned barreled forward as if he hadn’t heard me. “You don’t want to stay. Under the terms of May’s will, you would have to if you wanted to claim your inheritance. I’m willing to buy the lighthouse from you so that’s no longer an issue.”
I opened my mouth to say something, though I had no idea what. No sound would come out. The offer was generous and something to consider, but I was nowhere near competent enough to make that decision right now.
I couldn’t decide how I wanted to answer without offending Ned. Luckily I didn’t have to figure a way out, because Galen popped up on the side of the porch before I had a chance.
“You want to buy the lighthouse?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice, clutching
at the spot above my heart as I made a small gasp. “Where did you come from?”
“I was walking the beach to make sure we didn’t have another problem,” Galen replied, never moving his eyes from Ned’s face. “I heard your voice and wanted to check on you. I didn’t realize you had company.”
Well, that made no sense. If he didn’t realize I had company, who did he think I was talking to? Wait, don’t answer that.
“I was just discussing a few things with Ms. Hunter.” Ned’s smile never slipped, but he seemed surprised by Galen’s sudden appearance. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable. “I heard through the grapevine that she had a spot of trouble yesterday and I wanted to make things easier for her.”
“By buying the lighthouse?” Galen narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at the present time.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you,” Ned pointed out, something unsaid passing between the two men. “Ms. Hunter owns the property. Last time I checked, your name wasn’t on the deed.”
“Which means I don’t have a shark in this race.”
Hmm. I tapped my bottom lip as I ran the sentence through my head. “Do sharks really race or is this about shark shifters again? I know you think I’m constantly bringing it up but that’s really not the case.”
For the first time since arriving, Galen cracked a smile as he walked around the porch railing and flopped in the open chair separating Ned from me. He looked to be making himself at home, although I could sense the tension coiling in his body.
“I wasn’t trying to do anything illegal,” Ned stressed. “I’m not trying to scam her. I would pay fair market value for the property. She’s afraid of this place. All of your intricate plans to ease her into things failed and she’s afraid to be here. I mean … look at her. You could swim in the dark pools under her eyes.”
Self-conscious, I touched the heavy spots under my eyes and made a face.
“You look fine,” Galen said, giving my knee a friendly pat. “You just need to catch up on some sleep. It’s not a big deal.”
Witchy Dreams Page 85